


I've Never

by justthismorning



Series: I've Never [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justthismorning/pseuds/justthismorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a game they played when they were bored. It started when they were still kids, sitting in the backseat of the Impala. The game was “I’ve Never” and Sam was winning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Never

**Author's Note:**

> I've deliberately left this ambiguous but if Wincest bothers you, be warned. This could be interpreted as such.

Dean stared down at his fifth – or maybe his sixth – bottle and frowned. The summer breeze wafted in from the open window, bringing with it the scent of fresh straw and horse manure and pure country. Dean wasn’t entirely sure of the name of the town they were in. It was some backwater shithole that just happened to lie in the exact location where he’d gotten tired of driving. So he’d pulled off at the nearest motel and checked them in – two queens, thank you very much, no matter what kind of smirk the smartass behind the desk gave him.

An empty six-pack, and a few extra bottles littered the floor. Dean was sprawled on the bed with his ankles crossed. Sam was sitting in one of the chairs, cocky grin plastered all over his face. It was a game they played when they were bored. It started when they were still kids, sitting in the backseat of the Impala. It had various rules over the years, with different collateral: baseball cards, chewing gum flavours, swigs of Dad’s whiskey when he was out on a hunt. That time hadn’t ended too well and Dad kept a closer eye on his alcohol after that. This time the collateral was beer. It was a no name brand off the shelves of the gas station store, but it was all this town had, so they’d made do. The game was “I’ve Never” and Sam was winning.

But really, Dean was just more adventurous than Sam and it was hard to find anything Sam had done that Dean hadn’t. In recent years, Sam had won more rounds than he’d lost and his brother was getting annoyed in the way brothers sometimes do.

Dean swirled the last of his fifth – or maybe his sixth – bottle and stared out at the fields across the highway from their room. It hit him then, what he could say, and since it was his turn, his inspiration was timed perfectly. He grinned at his own ingeniousness, because, well, it was exactly the kind of pansy-ass thing Sam would do.

“I’ve never been strawberry picking,” Dean proclaimed.

He waited. His beer waited with him, waited until it would be Sam’s turn and the last of it would be downed in a single gulp. He waited, and then his smile slowly melted from his face. Sam wasn’t drinking.

“Wait, dude, no fair. You have to drink if you’ve done it.”

Sam just smiled sadly and tipped the last of his beer down his throat.

“I keep forgetting that Dad never let us be kids,” Sam said softly. His hand was clenching and unclenching around the empty bottle and Dean was suddenly sorry that he’d even brought it up.

“We’ll go tomorrow,” Sam said. And Dean knew that would be the last time he’d ever get to play that line.

~*~

The collateral this time was quarters. It had been Sam’s idea really, because he was tired of Dean feeding them into that damned machine, the one that vibrated the bed like some obscene porn movie. The second time they’d stumbled across this particular delight obviously didn’t increase Sam’s love for it. Plus, he was bored. It was obvious by the annoyance he wore prominently on his face: the pout of his lips, the frown of his eyebrows. So Dean indulged him, thinking of a new tactic already, one that would win him the most quarters.

The only problem was, Sam wasn’t losing. The pile of quarters on the bed beside Sam was growing and growing and Dean’s pile, the pile that had once dominated the little table between the beds, was almost gone.

“I’ve never had a threesome,” Sam said, after deliberating silently for a while.

Dean grumbled and flipped another quarter into Sam’s pile. Three left. He needed the next one. He needed the bed to keep him occupied until dawn, because at least when the bed was buzzing he wasn’t able to think. So far it had been the best method he’d found to shut up his brain.

Letting his eyes drift down Sam’s form, athletic and tall, he chewed on the end of his tongue. There was one thing he knew Sam had done. It had been with Jessica. Sam told him a little while ago about it, and although it wasn’t a significant event, Dean wasn’t sure he was ready to use that card. Jess was still a sore wound and they were only quarters after all.

“I’ve never drank an entire bottle of tequila,” he said at last.

Sam broke into a barking laugh but didn’t relinquish any quarters.

“I’ve never downed Dad’s entire bottle of Jack.”

“That’s because you were pussy.”

“That’s beside the point,” Sam shot back, the grin widening. “You did it and now you have to pay up.”

Two left.

“I’ve never been snowboarding.”

Dean froze. He wasn’t going to say it out loud. He hadn’t planned on using it. He slammed his palm over his mouth, watching his baby brother with widened eyes. But Sam didn’t look at all upset. He grinned ever so slightly at Dean as he tossed the coin back.

“You know, dude, we’re in Vermont,” was all Sam said. And Dean knew that would be the last time he’d ever get to play that line.

~*~

It was raining. Dean was sure he’d heard a song once about April showers, but that might have been in a Disney movie and he wasn’t sissy enough to say he remembered it. Sam, on the other hand, had no qualms about appearing sissy. He was standing at the window, peering around the curtains and whimpering about how he so didn’t want to get wet again.  
Sam’s third pair of jeans was draped across the back of the chair. His second pair was crumpled on the floor in a wet pile. The first pair was still abandoned on the bathroom floor where he had thrown them after the first time he’d gotten caught in the sudden storm yesterday. His fourth pair was riding low on his hips. His fourth shirt was absent, probably still in his duffle bag.

“Man, stop fucking whining,” Dean grumbled. His clothes were scattered around the room too, and to top it all off, his favourite jacket was soaked. But Dean still felt proud that it was Sam doing the complaining this time, and not him. “Sit down and shut up.”

Sam’s answer was a withered glare, followed by compliance.

Dean felt the bed dip as Sam’s heavy body settled beside him. He didn’t raise his eyes to his brother’s face. He didn’t want to deal with the pouting today. He had done enough of his own and Sam had worked it into an art form. Instead, he stared down at their feet. Sam’s extended a little further down the bed, partly because of his height and partly because he was slouched further down the headboard.

“I’ve never been accused of being a cry baby,” Dean suggested helpfully.

“You have too,” Sam mumbled. “Besides, we have nothing to play with.”

“We can play for fun.”

Sam contemplated that for a moment. His shaggy hair drip-dripped onto the bedspread and Dean was about to complain about the wet spot that was forming between them when –.

“I’ve never had sex when Dad was in the room.”

“I’ve never jacked off when Dad was in the room,” Dean snapped back. “And he was in the shower, which technically classifies it as the next room.”

Sam almost chuckled. “Fine,” he said. “I’ve never accidentally tied my own shoelaces together.”

“Dude, I was five. And I’ve never begged Dad to get me a doll.”

Sam fell silent.

The rain drowned out any thoughts Dean might have had. It was something else, making Sam like this. Dean had used the doll line enough times. Usually it was countered with a sharp reminder of the time he’d shot himself in the foot with rock salt. But Sam didn’t say it.

“I’ve never been to Disney World,” Sam said finally.

So this is how Sam wanted to play. No more playing to win. Sam knew Dean had never been either. But sometimes Sammy needed to be all girly. Sometimes Sam needed to talk about things that Dean would never bring up on his own.

“I’ve never had a dog.”

“I’ve never heard Mom laugh.”

Dean’s heart stuttered. Mom. She was no-go territory. The only time Sam had done it, Dean had clocked him so hard, he’d knocked out his front tooth. Ok, maybe it was going to fall out anyway, but Sam had learned and that’s all that really mattered. So now for Sam to say it...Dean concentrated on breathing.

“And I’ve never seen Dad truly happy,” Sam continued. “And I’ve never actually been happy myself.”

“Hey man -.”

But Sam wasn’t finished. Shifting on the bed until their shoulders bumped and Sam’s hair was dripping on Dean, he continued. “I’ve never bothered to ask what you needed, just done what I wanted. I’ve never really thought about how much you’ve given me. I’ve never shown you how much I love you.”

Sam was trembling. Dean could feel it all the way from his knees to his shoulder, at every point where Sam’s body touched his. He could hear it in the shaking gasps that passed for breaths.

“Neither have I, man.” Dean answered. “Neither have I,” he whispered as Sam’s shaky hand came down on his thigh. “Neither have I,” he sighed as Sam slowly turned his body so that he was facing Dean. “Neither have I.” But Dean had a feeling that he would never be able to use that line ever again either.  



End file.
